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So with a sigh, I kept walking until I reached the Twisted Broom. With a stand labeled “Broom Parking,” I couldn't help but smile. I was greeted by Darren, the half-goblin, fully grump, owner whose vocabulary spanned a total of maybe ten words—mostly a series of grunts and head nods. When I walked back out, I was a part-time server. Best of all, he offered to skip the paperwork and pay me in cash.

One less trail of paper.

It’s been a week since I was hired, and I’m finally getting into a good flow. Which I desperately need, since it appears I may be here longer than planned. The damage to my car, which had appeared minimal in the dim lights of the tow truck the night of the accident, was apparently extensive. It probably didn’t help that my car is ancient, rusted, and held together by electrical tape, Gorilla Glue, and a prayer.

I’d stopped by Earl’s auto shop on my way back from my first visit to the Twisted Broom. One glance at the front end had told me it wasn’t going to be good news. Earl had explained there was damage to the frame and a slew of parts that would need to be ordered to fix the engine. According to Earl, I’d been lucky it hadn’t caught fire when I hit the tree. Because the car was a dinosaur, parts were going to be challenging to obtain. Earl couldn’t even give me an estimate because he hadn’t tracked some of them down yet. I’d left the shop with his assurance that as soon as he had an update, he would call me.

“Cordelya? You okay?” Mason asks from behind the bar.

Clearly lost in my own thoughts, I smile at the elf. “Just wandering thoughts while I wait to clear down a few tables.”

Mason, the bartender, was the one to show me the ropes on my first day. We quickly bonded over pictures of our various pets, and by the end of my shift I felt like I’d made a friend.

It feels bittersweet. Living the life I do, friends are few and far between. It has been a long time since I made a new friend, and knowing I will have to leave him behind at some point makes my heart ache.

Mason resumes slicing limes for garnish and asks, “How’s your shift been?”

“Busy. Waiting to turn over a few tables. Looks like there’s a bit of a queue,” I say as I catch sight of more than a few customers standing around the bar's perimeter, scanning for open seats.

Mason follows my gaze and nods. “Those’ll be the set-up crew pausing for a lunch break.” He says, returning to his prep.

“Set-up crew?” I inquire.

“For the craft fair. There’s a little town square a few blocks away. Really, it’s a big open grassy area with a gazebo in the middle, but Town Square makes it seem more impressive.” He chuckles as I smile. “Anyway, a lot of the shops and people who handcraft items set up tables and sell their products. Happens the second Saturday of the month.”

“That sounds fun,” I say wistfully. How long has it been since I went to a market? My heart stutters on a sad pang that I immediately push aside.

Mason finishes slicing and looks up at me with a smile. “It’s nice. There’s music, shopping, and food. And this month is the best because all the sellers dress up and hand out candy and treats. You should totally check it out.”

“Maybe,” I say casually. I’d love to go and wander the market, lose myself in the simple pleasure of getting to know the town and what it has to offer.

“It’s also pet-friendly,” he adds in that sing-song voice, knowing my pets are a weakness.

I laugh. “I’ll think about it. First, I have tables to clear.”

Another hour passes in a blur of orders and customers. I’ve had several great conversations with a range of monsters and humans alike. Everyone has been so kind, welcoming me to town and giving me tips on all the have-to-dos and must-see October attractions. Bonus, I’ve made an astounding amount of tips.

I’ve just dropped the largest order of food I’ve ever seen for a single person—to be fair, I’m certain he’s some sort of yeti—when all the hairs on my body stand on end.

Someone is watching me.

My eyes dart around, searching for the source of the rapidly growing dread in the pit of my stomach. The room is more packed now, filling with early evening customers. Humans and supernaturals are packed along the expansive bar, and more are seated in the booths and tables.

“Cordelya? Cordelya!” Darren shouts through the passthrough, making me jump.

I spin to face him, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I got lost in thought.” And looking for an escape route, I think as I try not to let the panic get the best of me. Panic will do me no good if I have to make a quick exit. Panic leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to…I can’t even think of the words.

Darren stares at me for a long moment before sliding several plates across the pass. I load them onto a tray with another mumbled apology before rushing away to deliver the order as the tingles of unseen eyes race up my spine.

“Here you are,” I say with enthusiasm I most certainly do not feel as I set down the plates. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Um, well,” the man says, staring at his plate. The lady seated across from him looks at me with sympathetic eyes before explaining, “This isn’t our order.”

Oh no.

“I think that might be ours,” a scaled lady with beautiful silvery hair says from the table behind them.

“I am so sorry,” I say, scrambling to place the plates back on the tray. “I’ll go check on your order right now.” I scurry away, dropping the plates off to the correct table before dashing back to the pass window. Luckily, Darren has the order ready just as I return.